


Fireworks

by ahgase



Category: GOT7
Genre: I'm sorry this is sad, M/M, but it's mainly sad, please read the notes in the beginning!, there is cute, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahgase/pseuds/ahgase
Summary: To be used to that routine was a very bittersweet thing to JaeBum. His disease was destroying him inside, but at the same time, it was what justified YoungJae’s presence in his life. And deep down, YoungJae was the reason JaeBum was still thankful for being alive.





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> before you start reading, a very important remark: I've never been throught the things I wrote here. I've never been with a person who was facing the same situation JaeBum is in this fic, so I could have written things that are NOT true, and they can sound either naive or shallow. If that's the case, and if it harms anyone in any way, I apologize in advance. It isn't - and it'll never be - my intention to hurt or downgrade anyone.
> 
> ~
> 
> \- the sentences that start and finish this story are from the song 'Fourth Of July' by FOB, because I think it fits the mood very well and it matches the storyline [it's an amazing song!] ~
> 
> \- 'Miffy' is a name I borrowed of 'Fighting Ruben Wolf', a book by the amazing author Markus Zusak <3
> 
> \- English is not my first language. For this fic, I actually wrote everything in Portuguese, and then translated it to English. I think it is prety noticiable. Please tell me if you find any mistakes ~
> 
> [ this fic was already posted in asianfanfics, I'll be slowly bringing to ao3 everything I have there ~ ]

**You and I were fireworks that went off too soon.**

* * *

“JaeBum-hyung?” JaeBum woke up instantly when YoungJae touched his shoulder. He sat up on his bed, not without his nurse’s help. “How are you feeling today?” YoungJae asked smiling, and started to walk around the room, taking some devices to follow the well-known routine: check JaeBum’s blood pressure and heartbeat.

When YoungJae sat in front of JaeBum, the man extended this arm automatically. The nurse put the device around it, looking at JaeBum with his always so affectionate smile.

“Fine!” JaeBum was smiling as well, censoring himself inside for his lack of creativity. He always gave YoungJae the same answer, every day, even when his stomach seemed to want to come out of his body in coughs that hurt his throat, that was already much damaged because of his constant vomiting.

Soon, the cold stethoscope touched his chest. JaeBum suddenly remembered the time when YoungJae asked to do that.

During the first of those six months, YoungJae would ask for permission to do anything: to enter his room, to take off his jacket, to go to the bathroom, to use the cooker, to examine JaeBum, to open the closet.

JaeBum tried to remember how things were before YoungJae, but it had no importance right now.

JaeBum’s stomach made a noise, and YoungJae looked at his belly, surprised.

“Fighting even in its last moments.” JaeBum snorted.

“Shut up.” YoungJae shushed him while getting closer to his belly, speaking as he was talking to a baby and not to a stomach consumed by a cancer. “I don’t know how you stand this guy 24/7! We’ll feed you in a minute, be patient, please!”

Then, the nurse pierced JaeBum’s finger, using the little bead of blood to measure his blood glucose level.

“You didn’t eat enough yesterday” YoungJae said, and JaeBum understood what he meant.

“I was tired.”

“Hyung...”

“But I’m starving right now, ok? Happy?”

“You know your hunger always makes me happy!” YoungJae laughed loud, and JaeBum closed his eyes as if he could enjoy it better like that. When he opened them again, YoungJae had left. He could hear him moving around in the kitchen.

To be used to that routine was a very bittersweet thing to JaeBum. His disease was destroying him inside, but at the same time, it was what justified YoungJae’s presence in his life. And deep down, YoungJae was the reason JaeBum was still thankful for being alive.

* * *

When JaeBum was diagnosed with stomach cancer, 6 months ago, he felt his world fall apart. He couldn’t say it was a surprise: his great-grandmother, his grandparents and his mother died because of the cancer. And JaeBum’s dad, being the great doctor he was, knew that it was just a matter of time before he had to worry about his son. What nobody expected, though, was the disease appearing so soon inside the 26-year-old man. JaeBum was a mess, but nothing could compare to how his father felt. The man had lost his in-laws and his wife, and he would lose his son too.

JaeBum had to support his father while he himself was the sick one. And when his father told him he had hired a nurse, because his routine was very busy, JaeBum didn’t complain.

He knew his father’s job was the smallest obstacle, but JaeBum wouldn’t make his father stay with him. Some years ago, JaeBum had taken care of his mother during all the hard times, refusing to leave her side until the last moment. It was agonizing and hopeless, he knew all very well, and that’s why he could understand his father. He didn’t want to make the already broken man see another tragedy. JaeBum knew his father wouldn’t be able to bear it.

That’s when YoungJae appeared. The recently graduated blonde nurse. He was shy, but he had a powerful smile.

And JaeBum had a hypothesis about that smile. A so stupid and embarrassing hypothesis he kept it safe, never voicing it, but it was always there, less hypotheses and more fact every time YoungJae smiled: that smiled was curing him.

Not curing him for real, JaeBum wasn’t stupid to think that. And even if he was, his doctor’s worried expression when they had an appointment or his increasingly frequent crises wouldn’t let him believe it. But JaeBum wanted to believe in that secret he kept to himself. Something changed every time YoungJae looked at him with that smiled that lighted up all his face. YoungJae’s smile had a light so strong it made him shine, and a reflection of that light would always land on JaeBum’s face, making him smile as well, even when he didn’t know exactly the reason.

And as the months went by, the few hours they spent together turned into full days. Then days turned into nights YoungJae slept on the sofa. Soon the sofa was abandoned and YoungJae put a mattress near JaeBum’s bed, until JaeBum mustered the courage to say his bedroom was big enough for two beds and two of everything needed. And to his surprise, YoungJae smiled. He smiled wide and said it was about time.

For a moment – and because he was really confused – JaeBum asked himself if YoungJae meant it was about time he died. But YoungJae’s smile did one of those tricks once again and JaeBum felt stupid for even thinking something so absurd. Then, JaeBum found himself even more confused, because he thought he knew what YoungJae meant, but he didn’t want to be full of false (or at least not confirmed) hope.

The point is, that night, YoungJae brought his things to JaeBum’s house and even let his patient eat pizza (“ _If your doctor ever finds out, I will never be able to work again!”_ ) to celebrate.

Since then, JaeBum e YoungJae had their beds one next to the other. JaeBum promised to himself that if he didn’t die by the end of the year, he would muster his courage once again and suggest a double bed. He just needed a good excuse. And to be alive, of course. But JaeBum believed this last part would be fine if YoungJae was with him.

* * *

YoungJae came back from the kitchen with a tray on his hands, and JaeBum was suddenly mesmerized by the view of his nurse’s messy hair pointing at different directions and his sleepy eyes. Yet, he complained.

“You know, I’m not totally useless yet. I can go to the kitchen and make my own breakfast.”

“Let me be, I’m being romantic!” YoungJae let the tray on JaeBum’s bed, took his bowl and sat on his own bed, resting on the headboard and bringing the sheets closer. “Besides, it’s fucking cold. I wanted to come back to my cozy blankets.” He completed before filling his mouth with cereal.

“I should present charges against you for whatever association that directs the nurses, for putting your preferences before mine!” JaeBum started eating, no real danger in his words.

“Go ahead, do that!” YoungJae said, laughing. “I want to see if you’ll ever find someone else who endures this grumpy mood of yours.”

“Idiot!”

“I love you too, hyung!” YoungJae replied, tilting his head as he smiled.

And it didn’t matter if JaeBum’s stomach was ruined and there was nothing good inside of it, the butterflies insisted on living there and fly like crazy when YoungJae said something like that.

JaeBum hid his flushed face in the bowl, cutting the talk. He ate slowly, as usual, thinking about all the things YoungJae said without realizing how it affected JaeBum.

YoungJae would always say some effortless sentence that made JaeBum’s thoughts run wild inside his head. Some of them would go till his lips, but never made it through.

* * *

“Shit.” JaeBum was able to whisper before the vomit went up his throat and forced him to lean over the toilet one more time. When he coughed a last time, he heard YoungJae again.

“JaeBum, let me in, please!”

His voice was muffled by the thick wooden door separating them, but JaeBum heard the despair in it. It was the same every time JaeBum had a crisis. He was facing more regular crises, and each time, his stomach would refuse anything he had eaten. Even before YoungJae, he always locked the door. It was a habit, because he hated letting people see him in that condition.

Mainly if it was YoungJae.

The first time it happened, YoungJae just let him be.

After some similar episodes, YoungJae would punch the door so hard JaeBum was afraid it’d fall.

Although the extra attention JaeBum got from YoungJae during those moments was something his heart craved for, he knew as the burning in his stomach let no doubt: it’d be soon, really soon. And the idea seemed to be more hateful as the days passed, because now he and YoungJae were connected. But JaeBum always knew the proximity between them was somehow linked, proportional to the worsening of his condition.

When JaeBum felt he wouldn’t throw up anymore – because there was nothing in his stomach – he reached out to the door and unlocked it, keeping himself on the floor.

YoungJae entered the bathroom in a quick motion, but he didn’t dare to get closer. He was aware of how JaeBum hated that situation, but he’d never be able to step aside and just watch while JaeBum suffered.

When JaeBum felt his breathing calm down, he got up and went to the sink, clearly ignoring YoungJae. He opened the tap and washed his mouth for some seconds. Then he closed it, and stood still, hands supporting his weight on the sink. He didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do this to me ever again, please.” YoungJae whispered, his voice sounding hoarse because of the screaming from earlier.

“I won’t.”

“It’s going to be ok.”

JaeBum nodded weakly.

JaeBum froze as he felt YoungJae’s hand on his waist. The nurse turned him around slowly and pulled JaeBum into a hug when they were face to face. JaeBum couldn’t see YoungJae’s expression, but he felt his neck get wet when YoungJae hid his face there.

He tried to hug YoungJae with the same strength the younger was hugging him. And then, JaeBum asked himself who was comforting who.

* * *

“Shower.”

One of those words that made JaeBum feel uneasy. His stomach squirmed when he got up, this time not because of the disease.

_He rolled his eyes, feeling the heat creeping up on his face._

_“JaeBum, it may sound very silly, but I advise you to reduce your daily activities. Don’t overwork yourself, even if it is something trivial. Take care when getting up, don’t take things that fell on the floor. Take care even during showers, when you crouch down or something like that. Just avoid unnecessary pain._

JaeBum hadn’t intended to tell that to YoungJae. But it wasn’t necessary, because his doctor was the one who called the nurse in to give him new instructions. JaeBum wanted to die (not really).

“Come on hyung.”

YoungJae passed JaeBum’s arm around his shoulders, helping him to the bathroom, as he usually did when JaeBum had a crisis. The boy didn’t protest.

They didn’t take shower together. It was usually YoungJae helping JaeBum and then taking his own bath alone (JaeBum thought it was unfair. One day, he even mentioned – with the most unimpressed and blank expression he had – that he wouldn’t mind if YoungJae took his shower with him. YoungJae looked at him with such strong gaze that JaeBum had to look away. They never talked about that again.)

During the fourth month, when JaeBum was sure his feelings for YoungJae were more than messed up, he had the worst crisis he could remember. He woke up throwing up, and it was the first time YoungJae actually helped him during the shower.

In the beginning, it was just drying his back. Then things began to change. One day, YoungJae dried JaeBum’s hair too. Other day, he combed his hair and made weird hairdos. Next week, he buttoned up his shirt. Then arrived the day where JaeBum saw himself being – literally – bathed by YoungJae. JaeBum standing, the water falling down from the shower and YoungJae doing all the rest, what meant, despite all of JaeBum’s complaints, YoungJae rubbing all ( _Jesus,_ every single part) of his body. It wasn’t something JaeBum was very proud of, but he wasn’t willing to complain either (he just wished it happened during the first month, when he still had what he thought was a hot body built at the gym, and not skinny as he was now).

In his memory, JaeBum had a particular embarrassing day. In a sudden needy state, he didn’t say anything when YoungJae entered the bathroom with him.  And  well, he wasn’t able to control his body, at least not when his blood rushed so fast inside his veins.

They spent half an hour in the shower, with JaeBum looking everywhere but YoungJae’s face as the younger rubbed his skin softly. The nurse saw it, JaeBum was positive, but he acted like nothing happened, as if JaeBum wasn’t ridiculously aroused with just that soft touch.

JaeBum had had – hell, he still had – erections during other occasions… countless times, more than he was glad to admit, but he thought YoungJae wasn’t immune either.

Every now and then JaeBum was sure he had seen his nurse’s face flush. He had witnessed him biting his lower lip and his eyes wandering. JaeBum’s favorite, though, was when YoungJae left the sponge aside to rub his skin with bare hands. Then YoungJae would take his hands off JaeBum to put a strand of hair behind his ear or fix the clothes that had stuck on his body because of the water (actually, YoungJae’s t-shirts were always too long).

But it could be only his own impression.

Still, those were the times when JaeBum had to control himself to a maximum – not to be horny like a teenager – not to pull YoungJae closer and kiss him. Because during those times JaeBum was sure – well, almost sure – YoungJae would kiss him too.

And he was afraid of that.

Afraid of knowing the reason why YoungJae would correspond.

(He wanted to believe it wouldn’t be out of pity.)

* * *

YoungJae was massaging JaeBum’s shoulders while watching a drama when his cellphone rang. JaeBum repressed a sigh when the nurse’s hands left him.

“Hello? Hi hyung, give me a minute!” YoungJae pressed some buttons and put the cellphone on the coffee table. “Right hyung, on speaker mode right now.”

“Hey JaeBum!” A strong voice echoed in the room.

“Hi Mark!”

“I have an invitation for both of you: basketball match on Saturday night. I’ve already convinced everyone – even JinYoung, JaeBum –, just you two left. Since everyone is going, you guys have no excuse.”

Another of the hundreds of good things about having YoungJae close was his friends. Mark, Jackson, BamBam and YuGyeom had adopted JaeBum to their group, and then the boy brought along JinYoung, his best friend since he could remember.

In the days JaeBum was fine, they’d come to his apartment to do pretty much nothing. Just play around and talk about anything that came to their minds.

Sometimes, they agreed on going out. But YoungJae and JaeBum usually stayed out of it, and JaeBum hated himself for taking YoungJae out of his plans with his friends, even if the boy never complained.

They looked at each other for a moment, and JaeBum shook his head, he was afraid of having another crisis in front of everyone.

“JaeBum loved the idea, we’ll be there!” YoungJae answered Mark, still looking at JaeBum.

JaeBum had no time to get up and grab the cellphone because YoungJae was faster and reached it first, disappearing in the kitchen right after. He came back after a moment, sat down on the same place he was before and resumed massaging JaeBum.

“What if I start to sputter my organs out in front of everybody?”

“I’ll be right next to you to help when you choke on your heart.”

And that was exactly how JaeBum felt: with his heart stuck in this throat.

* * *

 “Hey, you said you’d buy this game for me.” JaeBum looked behind, resting his head on YoungJae’s thigh so he could face him.

The nurse ran a hand through his patient’s hair, his eyes jumping from the commercial on the TV to JaeBum.

“I bought it. Didn’t I give it to you?”

“No!” JaeBum smiled, holding back not to raise his hand and smooth that worried little wrinkle between YoungJae’s eyes.

“Maybe I let it in the car?”

“You can go get that later.” JaeBum asked as he saw the boy ready to get up.

“It’ll be really fast hyung. We can play it today!”

YoungJae wore his coat and grabbed the car keys, closing the door behind him. JaeBum listened to his voice.

“Hello Mrs. Lee!” He greeted her, sounding happy as usual.

Then Miffy started the show. Mrs. Lee was JaeBum’s neighbor. They were the only people living on that floor, and they got along very well. Miffy was her Chihuahua. Incredible as it seems, the woman was able to keep her pet quiet inside the building. But Miffy couldn’t see YoungJae. The dog was the only creature in the whole world who hated the nurse. When Miffy listened to YoungJae’s voice, he transformed into the typical Chihuahua: 50% anger and 50% trembling, barking to vent his hate to everyone who wanted to hear. YoungJae even tried to get closer to the dog, just to end up with the marks of Miffy’s teeth on his hand. The friendship ended in that moment.

“Good evening darling!”

“Let me help you with these bags!”

The voices – and Miffy’s annoying barking – faded slowly, as they went to the elevator.

JaeBum took the remote and started zapping through the channels, trying to find something good to watch. He was feeling his stomach burn a bit, but tried not to think in the pain. YoungJae would be back soon and then they’d squeeze themselves behind the coffee table, their knees touching because they’d be close. JaeBum smiled. He didn’t care about the game at all.

Mrs. Lee’s screaming interrupted his thoughts.

JaeBum found that strange. By the time that had passed, Mrs. Lee and YoungJae were in the hall already. If JaeBum could hear her, she must have screamed really loud.

Then, the high-pitched barking.

_Miffy,_ JaeBum thought rolling his eyes. What could be the reason for that evil spirit disguised as a dog to bark that much?

JaeBum remembered that Mrs. Lee let Miffy fall off her arms once. The scream was similar. The dog’s barking and crying too. It was the destiny punishing the dog for bearing an unjustified hate against YoungJae.

A loud bang.

What was going on?

JaeBum tried to be quiet and pay attention, but his curiosity was stronger and got the best of him: he got up to call YoungJae, but the boy had left his cellphone on the coffee table.

More screaming. Not only Mrs. Lee now. Something was wrong.

He held his breathe, grabbed his coat and left his apartment, running to the elevator. It wasn’t a very wise decision to go and meet whatever was going on the first floor, but JaeBum wanted to be sure YoungJae was alright.

Before the doors of the elevator opened, another crash was heard. Then JaeBum realized: they were shots. The three seconds it took the doors to be opened felt like eternity. More people had gone to the hall. JaeBum recognized some neighbors, everyone looking a bit lost as well. The quiet whispers filled every corner of the place.

In the middle of the hall, three bodyguards immobilized a guy who was trying to get out. A gun lay near them, out of the criminal’s reach.  Somewhere on their right, some people tried to calm down Mrs. Lee, who was breathing with difficulty. Miffy was in his owner’s lap, trembling in fear.

JaeBum looked around, looking for YoungJae. His heart was beating quickly as he walked faster. He diverted from other people, all of them talking about something he couldn’t pay attention to. He just wanted to find YoungJae, he just wanted to see him coming back from the garage with that blunt expression of his, without even understanding what happened.

Sure, the garage!

JaeBum turned around to the hall exit, and his heart stopped for a moment.

YoungJae.

The tears unintentionally filled his eyes.

Without realizing, his feet worked by themselves and started taking him where the nurse was. Still.

_No. No. No._

Someone stopped JaeBum, but he didn’t care enough to see who it was. He somehow got out of the grip using a strength he hadn’t had in months, but another pair of arms hugged him, preventing him from walking forward.

_No. No. No._

YoungJae’s face was facing the other side, his dark hair falling over his eyes. From an almost invisible hole on his black t-shirt, blood was flowing, painting the white floor in red.

Doctors passed by JaeBum and reached YoungJae, but everything was blurred. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

From all people, why YoungJae?

Why not JaeBum himself? He was already dying! Why YoungJae? Why his boy, always so full of life?

Someone grabbed his arm. A policeman.

“You have to keep distance.”

Behind the policeman, the doctors exchanged a look. JaeBum knew what it meant. A chant of ‘no’s’ took control of his mind, the tears leaving his eyes meaning so much JaeBum could barely understand. His knees got weak, and the man in front of him was kind enough to hold him standing.

“He’s dead. I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

**You are my** **favorite** **"what if", you are my best "I'll never know".**

**Author's Note:**

> sorry :(


End file.
